


First of Many

by Afflitto



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Prumano - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 01:25:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Afflitto/pseuds/Afflitto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lovino and Gilbert spend their first Christmas together, the decorating gets a bit out of hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First of Many

**Author's Note:**

> My secret santa gift for livejournal user cappuholic. I combined two of their prompts, involving decorating for Christmas and having a bit too much mulled wine. I wasn't QUITE sure how decoration worked in Germany and I couldn't find too many pictures online so I apologize for glaring inaccuracies (I did read a lot about cool customs, though, and that was fun). However, hopefully this is adequate in terms of Prumano fluff! I hope you enjoy.

“Oh fuck it.”

Gilbert had cleaned and recleaned his apartment before he’d realized what he was doing. And now, broom clutched to his chest, he glowered at the clock as if he could rush along the minute hand.

Lovino was going to think he’d tried too hard. The couches were a little too pristine, the rugs too vacuumed, and the wooden floor shone a little too brightly. Furniture polish competed with the aroma of gingerbread wafting from an immaculate kitchen, separated from the living room by only a half wall.  


“Shit,” Gilbert muttered, leaping to his feet. He dug through the trash for handfuls of spruce-needles and sprinkled them at the base of the tree flourishing in one corner, then knocked over a stack of magazines. Then, as the doorbell rang, he skidded into the kitchen to disrupt the ranks of chairs and deposit a plate of cookies onto the table, taking a bite out of one and leaving its remains.

“Took you long enough,” Lovino muttered when he opened the door. The Italian trudged through, stamping snow from his boots, and dropped a large duffle bag by the floor to quickly shed his coat. He shivered, teeth clattering. “The fuck is with all this snow?”

“It’s…Germany in December?” Gilbert said. “Kind of part of the experience.” Without missing a beat, he rushed to the couch, shook out a blanket, and quickly wrapped it around Lovino’s shoulders, helping him sit down. He dashed off and returned with a mug. “Glühwein?”

Lovino accepted it with a little nod. A spiral of steam brought bursts of spices with it. He inhaled deeply. “Already offering alcohol? Got some kind of hidden agenda?”

Gilbert plopped down beside him with a mug of his own, which he cradled in his hands. It warmed calloused palms. “Some of it cooked off, probably. So drink extra.” He shot him a crooked grin. “And no, you’ve got work to do. If you’re staying here for Christmas, we have to decorate this place.” He gestured to the tree with his thumb, “Already got the Christmas tree and,” he pointed to a bin in the other corner, “a shitload of decorations that I’ve accumulated over the years.”

“It’s only the first of December,” Lovino said. “You can’t fucking decorate yet, you have to wait unti--”

“Clearly, you know nothing,” Gilbert said. He hopped up, dragged the bin over, and started digging through, tossing tinsel and bits of garland everywhere until he found a box of ornaments. They were delicate bobbles, some glass, others painted with doves or gold twists. “Hurry up and help me before I start making balls jokes.” He dangled two by their strings. They clinked together.

Lovino was there in a flash. “Don’t even—“

Together, between sips and refills of mulled wine, they hung greens along the windows and the entryways. Gilbert plopped an advent wreath in the center of the table and arranged stubs of candles as Lovino started yanking out strings upon strings of lights. Together they looped the strands around the tree. More needles sprinkled the ground as it shook.

“Okay, gonna light up this sucker!” Gilbert jammed the plug into the outlet. 

“The fuck? You want some _tree_ with your lights?”

Gilbert only grinned wider. The tree stood strangled in pinpricks of white light, which he crowded with as many ornaments as he could cram on. Then he shoved gobs of tinsel into any open space, until barely any green remained. “See, I used to use candles since before forever, but last year I kinda caught some of the tinsel on fire and…uh….” He laughed.

Lovino glanced at the poor over-crowded tree with a little scowl. “Starting to want to light this one on fire too.”

Gilbert only laughed.

Lovino captured his mug with a finger and slurped down the rest. As he returned to the kitchen to ladle more out of the pot, he paused to place candles around the apartment, lighting each with a flick of a lighter. They glowed and flickered pleasantly with the lull of evening. He took another sip, another kind of glow rising pleasantly with the pink tingeing his cheeks. 

A strong pair of arms wrapped around his waist and a chin found his shoulder. Gilbert’s voice was like velvet in his ear. “What the hell is with all the candles?”

“Brought them,” Lovino said. He took another sip. “Because I figured your taste in decoration would suck. I was right.”

With a sly little smile, Gilbert relieved Lovino of his cup, downed the rest, then plunked it down on the counter. He grabbed the Italian again and shoved a ball of tinsel down his shirt. He ran.

“OI ASSHOLE.” Lovino gave chase, pulling the wad of silver free then waving it around as he stumbled after him. He tripped over the back of the couch, unsteady on his feet from alcohol, but lunged after him again, bringing him down with a grip around his waist. They crashed in a heap. “Got you,” he gasped. He plunged the tinsel down the front of Gilbert's pants, cackling wildly.

“Argh,” Gilbert rolled, taking Lovino with him. 

Lovino ended up caught in Gilbert’s arms, a foot away from the blinding glow of the tree, the other immobilized by laughter and the beginnings of intoxication. “Oh fuck. Fuck Lovino fuck that shit itches.” He brought a clumsy sleeve to wipe tears from his eyes as his laughter intensified. “Oh fuck. You fucking decorated the wrong Christmas tree.”

Lovino punched his shoulder. Hard. “Oh my fucking god.” He punched him again and again, until blows somehow blurred into kisses, their lips caught in a tangle of hot sighs and the taste of mulled wine.

Through groans and heavy hands, the two knew this would be only the first of many interesting Christmases together.


End file.
